“Our CRP is second to none.” Superior Garmhra.

Heaven blinked. It was reflex, but when she opened her eyes, the sky was not as blue as it should have been. They stood in a concave space by a wall of portals. Heaven jumped when another Jjaran suddenly appeared and loped toward a large bright building. On a broad tarmac, Heaven puzzled over amorphous pulsing colors parked inches above the surface. There were many Jjarans, and all of them moved at a long-legged hurried gait.

Mireba said, “You may turn loose of my hand.”

Heaven looked down, and indeed, she still held tightly to Mireba’s hand. On Mireba’s wrist, Heaven noted a three-banded bracelet with an inserted key-like object. Heaven released her grip with an apologetic smile. She felt childlike and on edge. She turned back to the tarmac and the strange collection of panning colors.

“What are those?” Heaven asked.

Mireba answered, “You may think of them as ambulances. They are, in fact, trans isomer in nature. Shall we?”

Mireba extended an arm toward the facility ahead of them. Heaven walked forward, adjusting her step to the long stride of the Jjaran female. Heaven looked quickly about to take in the scenery. The lawn, the trees, the shrubs, and flowers, none of them seemed particularly alien. A siren from behind drew Heaven’s attention to the tarmac. Above an active body of Jjaran attendants, a swatch of pulsing light rose into the air.

Mireba said, “Welcome to the Jja Center for Organic Restoration.” She stopped at the entrance and looked down into Heaven’s eyes. “We are on the continent of Tresom, and in the Capital city of Jja. Our facility is the largest and most preeminent of the five worlds. I will leave you in our waiting room and advise our Superior.”

Heaven seated herself in a bright waiting room and looked about at strange wall posters cast in differing alien scripts. She sat erect and hugged herself as the long room was uncomfortably cold. At the far end of the room sat a young human in printed pajamas. Normal enough for a human patient on an alien world, the young man’s curly hair and wide-eyed stare made him seem simple.

A female attendant in maroon trousers and smock coaxed the young man from his seat and led him down a hall; his last glance back at Heaven seemed desperate. Cold, Heaven stood and paced until Mireba returned. She wore the maroon uniform and white shoes, but on her hairless head was a band attached to a white cloth that fell freely behind.

“Superior Garmhra will see you now,” said Mireba.

Heaven quietly followed the alien through a sterile hallway. They turned left into another hall, and at the end, Heaven saw a figure standing in an open door. At first, the alien seemed strange, but as Heaven drew near, she understood the alien wore a black cloak wider at the top than at the bottom. The Superior’s hands protruded through slits in the fabric. Thumbs pressed firmly together, the Superior tapped his fingers idly.

Mireba stopped and said, “Heaven Langley, Superior Garmhra will assist in the disposition.”

As Mireba left, the Superior extended an arm into his office. His smile seemed drawn by lateral muscles, and while he was nothing but official, Heaven got an odd vibe as she walked past him. She seated herself in a chair before the desk and took in the room. The desk was clean with a single monitor atop a slender pivot.

Wall plaques played gentle landscapes with unobtrusive music. Garmhra seated himself and offered a second smile before reaching into a drawer to draw out a white packet with a bulge in the center. Black print read simply, H. L. M. Smaller print in parentheses read, Eyes Only.

Garmhra slid the packet across to Heaven and said, “This is for you. Read it later.”

Heaven asked in a flat voice, “Is Besh alive?”

Garmhra smiled and folded his hands on the desk. “Very much so. Allow me to explain. Our main benefactor, the Nashtatra, placed Mr. Shuller in our care with a sizable donation. Obviously, he is quite important to them. He was rushed into our service with extensive burns across his head and body.”

Heaven gasped. “Has he recovered?”

“Oh, yes,” said Garmhra with a satisfied nod. “Our CRP is second to none. The initials stand for Comprehensive Restoration Program.” Garmhra stood and motioned toward the door. “Come,” he said. “I will take you to him.”

Heaven was aghast that Besh had been burned; she was relieved to know he had recovered. She recalled that day in the valley when Besh climbed a high rock to complete the mission only to be engulfed in flame. She thought to herself that Besh must have the nine lives of a cat. Would he look the same?

Garmhra walked ahead of her. The rigid shoulder frame of the cloak moved comically back and forth. Heaven said nothing but listened as Garmhra spoke. They walked past closed doors and deferential attendants dressed in maroon. The cool air bore a slight aroma of mint.

“Our restoration,” said Garmhra, “begins at the DNA level. From there, we build up and out. Oh, the process is long and tedious, but our success is the bane of our competitors.”

“Sounds impressive,” said Heaven, shifting the packet under her arm.

Garmhra sounded proud of their work. If Besh was alright, Heaven would be proud with them. Garmhra continued in the same tone of pride. “I may not reveal the details.” He turned and smiled. “Top secret.” He cleared his throat and changed his tone. “Sadly, Mr. Shuller suffers from memory loss.”

Heaven stopped in alarm. Garmhra stopped and turned. “Wait!” she said. “What happened to comprehensive?”

“Beyond the process,” said Garmhra. “At any rate, Mr. Shuller bears the scar of previous memory erasure. Not our doing. I must also inform you,” said the Superior starting forward again, “and this may seem ironic, his condition was so dire that we were forced to include in our genetic mix DNA from the Ajzurbed fire worm. I say ironic for two reasons. First is that Mr. Shuller now bears an enhanced resistance to cold. Second is that Mr. Shuller suffers recurring nightmares involving his burn incident.”

Mireba stood at the end of the hall by a closed door. She spoke to the Superior. “We are ready.”

Garmhra stopped and turned to Heaven, a serious expression in his high-set eyes. “Mireba will take you and Mr. Shuller to a trans isomer carrier. This is important. You may not tell Mr. Shuller his past; it must come to him naturally. The instruction packet and communication key are from the High Legion Mordorains. You must follow their instructions without question. Please follow Specialist Mireba.”

With a nod to the Superior, Heaven fell in behind Mireba. At a nondescript intersection, Mireba extended an arm to halt their progress. Five attendants raced past with a gurney; an indistinguishable patient was covered in bright purple blood. The tall blue specialist looked down into Heaven’s face, and as she spoke, Heaven’s heart skipped a beat.

“I understand that you may not recognize your friend,” said Mireba.

Heaven stammered a pained question. “Is it bad?”

“I apologize,” answered Mireba. “Ben is complete. The IPH is just ahead. You will see.”

Mireba opened a swinging double door and ushered Heaven into a room with portals in a curved wall. Two occupants stood waiting. One was a tall maroon-clad attendant. The other, dressed in a white short sleeve shirt and black trousers, clutching a small draw bag, was the curly-headed youth from the waiting room.

Mireba stepped to his side and dismissed the attendant with a nod. She turned and spoke to a confused Heaven. “Heaven Langley, Ben Shuller.”

Heaven’s mouth dropped open. She immediately turned away and pressed her palm to her forehead. It was beyond her that these serious aliens would play a prank. Nevertheless, Heaven felt her ire growing as she spun back to face the alien.

“Wait,” she said. “I’m here for an older gentleman.”

Mireba said deadpan, “The man you seek stands before you. Please, if you will, I am pressed for time.”

Mireba reached out to take the hands of both Heaven and the wide-eyed youth. Heaven sputtered and blinked as Mireba pulled the two of them through the portal. Heaven found herself outside on the tarmac. Mireba led them to a large swatch of pulsing colors.

Impressed, Ben said, “Wow!”

Mireba dropped their hands and stood before the trans isomer carrier. A door appeared from nowhere, tall enough to accommodate any Jjaran. Stepping to the side, Mireba extended an arm and spoke.

“Please enter and take hold of any vertical rail. This transport will take you to Collewar, a Consortium planet. From there, you may find transportation to a location of your choice.”

No sooner had they entered and gripped their respective handrails than a voice on a loop repeated the word ‘Exit.’ The door opened and they stepped out. Uncertain of their new surroundings, Ben stood a little too close to Heaven. She pushed him away and looked around. They had been dropped in an inconspicuous area of a net terminal.

Heaven took Ben by the arm and pulled him along. The crowd on the far side of the wall was thick and loud. Locating a kiosk, Heaven displayed her identification to the ticketing agent. The young woman scanned the card and handed it back with a smile.

“How may I direct you?” she asked in a practice manner.

Heaven responded professionally, “I am Constable Heaven Langley, representing the King of Pendragon. I need transportation back to Pendragon.”

At a glance from the ticketing agent, Ben said, “I’m Ben Shuller.”

“He’s with me,” said Heaven.

The agent produced two tickets. “Gate fifty-four.”

They boarded a gleaming net hugger with the name Relay Prime emblazoned on the side. Ben took a window seat smiling, while Heaven settled in the aisle seat, jacket and packet on her lap. The Pilot announced the jump would commence in twenty minutes and wished all passengers a safe and happy trip.

“Are we going to Pendragon?” asked Ben.

Heaven answered, “Just long enough to take a planet hopper to Merlin.”

Ben asked, “Is Merlin better than Pendragon?”

Heaven fingered the packet. “Merlin is where I grew up. I know a place we can stay.”

Ben said, “The Jjaran said I was an older person but now I’m thirty. Do we know each other?”

Heaven studied the youthful face of Ben, surprised by the number thirty. He looked much younger. The jump, the landing, the transfer; it was adding up to a long ride with a chatterbox. She turned with a sigh to watch the other passengers enjoy their silence.